The Con Artist Who Said Amen
by BlindedByDarkness011
Summary: We always see stories of Nick and Ellis being the only two left. Or Nick and Rochelle. But, This time, It's different. Coach and Nick are the only two left. Hear about the tragic accident of how it happened and how it changes a person dramatically.
1. The Con Artist Who Said Amen

Nick leaned against the make shift baracade. He was panting heavily. Coach rested against the counter. He set his gun down. The two men were still struck with previous pain that happened only minutes ago. Only moments ago, the four became two in a matter of seconds.

On the way to the safe house they encountered a tank. The four of them were always good at making sure nobody was extremely hurt. This time, it was just a simple mistake which lead to much more problems. Now, here they are. Scared, tired, hungry, and mourning. Nick, being the Conman he was, was never one to mourn the dead. But this time, it felt as if it was all different. As if the piece of the real world he was clinging on to shattered. The two men sat across from each other. One spoke up,

"What now?" Nick asked. They had come all this way to get to New Orleans. The four of them promised to make it. Now there was two. Coach scratched his chin and thought for a moment. He sighed.

"We gotta keep going youngin'. They would want us to." Coach smiled. Nick felt terrible. He could hear the hicks' stories. He could hear Rochelles' laughter and smart remarks. He now suddenly wished he never told Ellis to shut up, Or be rude to Rochelle. He couldnt take that back. Nick believed it was his fault. It really was. Coach seemed to disagree. Nick leaned over and grabbed his gun. He stood up.

"Come on. Let's move." Nick ordered.

Nick fell of the side of the building and Ellis went to help him up. That's when all hell broke loose. Rochelle was guarding Ellis and a smoker dragged her off. Coach threw a Cocktail Molotov to kill the tank. Nick was finally up and helping take down the tank. Ellis ran to get Rochelle. Then, The tank threw a car. It killed them. They finally took down the tank. In panic, Nick threw his gun on the concrete and ran forward to the overturned car. Coach slung his gun over his shoulder and came to help. They tried lifting the car. They strained and struggled to move the massive weight. It didn't seem to budge. Coach stopped to catch his breath. Nick kept at it. Coach stopped Nick by grabbing arm.

"Son, Stop it. Stop." The conman turned to the man in tears. The two men stared into each others eyes. Finally, The man let go. Nick leaned against the car. "I'm sorry, Didn't mean to grab you like that." Coach mumbled to where only they could hear. "We gotta keep moving. It's the only way." The con artist nodded. The older man stepped up to the car. "Lord, please guide these lost souls to your heart. They were the best brother and sister you ever put on this here earth. We are deeply hurt that this is the way they left us. We won't forget what wonderful impacts they left on this team. Amen." He opened his eyes and lifted his head.

"Amen," The con artist repeated softly. "Amen."


	2. A Cry For Help

Nick clutched his gun. Coach was a couple steps ahead of the con-artist. Nick didn't want to feel the pain he felt at this moment. He thought about that prayer he joined Coach on. That one small word made him dwell. **_Amen._**

Nick remembered when he was younger, his parents mad him go to church. He sat through the boring service. He aknowledged the christan belief. He was just never too crazy about it. Then again, He hardly ever got to open about himself.

Coach stopped at the end of the alley. There was an opening to a large park like place. Coach looked back to Nick. _Open areas meant bad. Especially if there was no zombies._ Nick nodded. Coach's gaze told Nick to watch his back.

The pair of men had been quiet lately. There was often little conversation shared between them. They could almost always share words between expressions. Nick had noticed there was less zombies because of the less noise. Which was good, but also dangerous. Nick held his gun up, walking behind Coach. Most of his focus was behind them. Coach cut across the courtyard like park to the next alley. The air filled with tight tension of panic. The short walk seemed as if it was miles long. Nick even panicked a bit. The courtyard was dusty and blood stained.

When they made it across, the tight tension had disappeared. Nick had calmed a bit. Coach sighed in relief. He stopped and stood next to Nick. He glanced at Nick, A worried gaze crossed his face. Nick avoided it.

A silent conversation.

"I'm sorry..." It was a faint whisper. Coach had a pained expression. Nick sighed.

"Don't be..." Nick whispered back. "They wouldn't want us to be sorry." Coach nodded.

"We have to find shelter..." Coach suggested in a whisper. Nick nodded. "We gotta keep going..." Ever so quietly he spoke. It was almost eerie. Nick took his turn to lead the way. He raised his gun, now with Coach following behind.

When they walked further into town, Nick heard a small noise. _**Crying.**_ Nick froze, looking back at Coach, He panicked. There was silence for a couple seconds. Maybe a Witch. Not good at all. The cry happened again. Coach came close, dropping to a whisper.

"That's no witch cry..." Coach paused. The cry sounded again and Nick could hear the difference. "We gotta see what's makin' that noise..." Nick tensed and nodded. Nick walked towards the building, keeping his ear out for the very faint crys. When they had gotten louder in the building, he was stopped outside a room. The building was a small church. A daycare section. The room's door had pictures on it. Nick placed his left hand on the door, twisting the knob as his right hand clentched the gun. He was ready to fire. Coach prepared behind him. The cry sounded again. The door creaked open and Nick stepped in. Coach slowly entering the room. the room was clear. A small bookcase, knocked over when Nick had pushed the door opened. A hiccup and cry. When Nick heard it better, he realized. _**A baby.** This was a baby_. Nick had approached the crib. The baby blue room; Empty, Dusty, Blood stained. Nick cringed, leaning over the crib. Expecting a turned child. The crys soon became quiet and stopped. The child's blue, red rimmed eyes glanced up at Nick. Nick glanced down. He was confused.

"Wh-What do we do...?" Nick turned to Coach, whispering. Coach approached the crib. He sighed.

"Quickly, Changer her and grab some food. We don't have much time..." Nick blinked. Anger flushed over him.

"Are you fucking crazy? We lost two people and you think we can take care of a child...?" Nick whispered harshly. Coach held his ground, Staring at Nick.

"They would want us to do this. We should do this for them. It's the right thing to do. God would want us to do this." Coach tried encouraging Nick. Nick thought about it. He glanced up at the ceiling as if asking for an answer. _Nothing_. He sighed.

"Fine. But, watch my back." Nick reached in and picked up the small child.

"As always." Coach smiled, pleased with himself. Nick carried the small child gently, as if she was fragile. Nick placed her on the table. Rushing to the otherside of the room he picked up a heavy black bag. A baby bag. When he came back, he quickly unzipped the bag and rumaged through

the contents, finding a diaper. He took the old one off, gagging. he quickly rolled it up and tossed it aside. He searched through the bag. After cleaning her up, He put the new diaper on her. It was loose. Nick dug in his backpack, Grabbing a roll of tape. He ducktaped the diaper on her to fit it.

Coach, on the otherside of the room, killed a couple infected. He glanced back at the conartist. He never thought he would see this man who had shut himself away from everyone, craddling this small child. It seemed surreal to him. Coach focused on the door, slashing another zombie. Nick zipped the bag closed, tossing it over his shoulder. The young girl had been calm. She had been staring at Nick. Just watching this new stranger. Nick picked her up in his arms.

"Alright, let's go." Nick spoke up. Coach turned to Nick. Coach led the way. Nick holding the child and following.

When they had finally made it to a safe house, Coach sighed as they set up the last of the baracade. Nick set the bags down in the corner, holding the sleeping child. He set her down gently on the still-intact couch. Nick looked down at her, exhausted. Coach stood next to him.

"Lord, This is gonna be a small handful." Coach smiled as he shook his head at the child. Nick nodded. _You got that right, Coach. You got that right._


End file.
